Wan Jie Hospice Care Company

Chapter 78 Immortality

Xiang Yu gripped the knife handle with his thumb, index finger, and middle finger, his wrist relaxed yet firm, like a bowstring poised to strike.

He took a deep breath, his leg muscles tensed suddenly, and the power rose up his spine, causing his upper body to twist.

Of course, these actions are secondary; the main thing is that at the instant the throwing knife leaves his hand, his palm imparts two hundred kilojoules of energy.

"rub!"

The throwing knife flew out of his hand at a speed comparable to that of an anti-materiel sniper rifle.

"Bang!"

There were no extra sounds of air being cut, only the sound of trees being hit, because the speed had exceeded the transmission of sound.

A round hole was instantly pierced through the half-meter-thick tree trunk. The wood fibers at the cut were slightly red due to the extreme high-speed friction, and a wisp of pungent blue smoke rose up.

Xiang Yu slowly exhaled a breath of stale air. These past few days, he had been repeating the arm-swinging motion like an ascetic monk, and now, the fixed target had lost all suspense for him.

As for the moving target? He wasn't worried.

With a flick of his wrist, ten throwing knives appeared out of thin air between his fingers.

Energy compressed and amplified in his palm, ten times the previous power being evenly poured into every inch of the blade. He swung his arm sharply, and ten silver beams tore through the air in a fan shape, piercing the trees in front of him with a sharp whistling sound.

The interval between the release of the knives from the hands was compressed to the extreme, almost like the firepower of a fully automatic machine gun.

Several unfortunate ornamental trees were twisted into pieces, with wood chips flying like snow before crashing to the ground.

Xiang Yu nodded in satisfaction. The power far exceeded expectations, and as for accuracy, with such absolute attack speed, all errors could be wiped out by brute force.

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However, there is indeed a problem with throwing knives. Although he has been indulging in food and drink these past few days, accumulating about 300,000 to 400,000 kilojoules of energy—enough to throw several thousand knives—the number he can carry is ultimately limited. He can't really carry a thousand knives into battle; even if each knife weighs 100 grams, a thousand knives would still weigh 200 pounds.

Therefore, Xiang Yu chose to carry one hundred ordinary throwing knives, plus ten heavy throwing knives as a last resort.

"Preparations are almost complete."

He patted his boron carbide armor, which had several knife pouches hanging from its top and bottom, filled with over a hundred small throwing knives. Over the armor, he wore a large overcoat, inside which hung ten heavy throwing knives, and he also had two hundred grams of gold and ten kilograms of silver in his pocket.

If transported to an era of social disorder, precious metals could at least serve as hard currency.

Although I don't know if the other world will recognize this thing—it's always good to be prepared.

Everything is ready; now it's time to take action.

He took out his phone.

"Hey, Ai Bowu, we're going to the mental hospital together at 3 PM. Is everything ready?"

"Everything's ready, big brother, we're just waiting for you!"

The appearance of a mental hospital is similar to that of a regular hospital, except that some areas have been fitted with heavy iron railings.

Under the cold gray courtyard wall, several elderly men were strolling in the yard, looking no different from the old people taking a walk on the street.

"Big brother, over here!"

Ai Bowu peeked out from the side door like a thieving weasel. He yanked open the iron gate and ushered Xiang Yu inside, his signature smile still on his face.

"Boss, we've been waiting for you!" Ai Baiwu was still as energetic as ever. "By the way, didn't you say you wanted to see a mental patient? Which mental patient do you want to see?"

"Let's meet them all, one by one—"

-

As soon as Xiang Yu finished speaking, Ai Bowu shook his finger, looking mysterious.

"No need to bring them up one by one—I've gathered them all together! I'll take you to that room!"

"Huh?" Xiang Yu was taken aback. "You put a bunch of high-risk mental patients together?"

"Oh dear." Ai Bowu's smile froze on his face as he belatedly realized something was wrong.

The two exchanged a glance and then dashed into the depths of the corridor.

Following the direction Ai Bowu pointed, Xiang Yu kicked open the door.

The door slammed against the wall, and the sight inside made both of them widen their eyes in surprise.

"Immortality!"

"Immortality!"

"Immortality!"

An old man was shouting "Longevity!" while gesturing wildly, as if he were performing a shamanistic ritual.

In the shadows of the corner, the old woman huddled up, her eyes like a dry well, unresponsive to the clamor of the world, utterly devoid of any will to live.

Sitting at the edge of the hospital bed was a middle-aged man, who seemed to be studying the old man's behavior, then bent down to take notes.

He didn't have a pen; he just silently traced lines on the sheets with his index finger.

Looking at this chaotic scene, Xiang Yu glanced at Ai Bowu.

Aibowu scratched his head sheepishly: "At least they didn't fight—no wonder they're highly educated mental patients, even when they're having an episode they're so civilized."

"I don't think it has much to do with education level. It's probably because these people don't have any major conflicts." Xiang Yu quickly noticed the relationship between the three people. The middle-aged man was observing the other two: the old lady didn't care about anyone and her heart was already dead; the old man was completely trapped in his own world, shouting hoarsely, but no one could hear him.

Xiang Yu pulled up a chair, straddled it, rested his arms on the back, and propped his chin up, his gaze fixed squarely on the middle-aged man: "What are you looking at? Why aren't you two talking? Is there something wrong with your relationship?"

The middle-aged man stopped pointing, slowly raised his eyelids, and glanced at Xiang Yu's face.

"Foolish fellow," the middle-aged man said coldly to Xiang Yu. "We have no conflict; on the contrary, we are kindred spirits."

Seeing that the other party seemed to look down on him completely, Xiang Yu didn't get angry at first, but instead asked, "Hmm?"

So what are you recording?

"Time is a trap." The middle-aged man's tone remained indifferent, not even glancing at Xiang Yu. "We are all looking for a way out of this trap. As for you pathetic mediocre people, you can only wait to die in this trap your whole lives, never even touching the edge of the truth."

Aibowu wanted to punch this unruly lunatic; this BYD was too damn arrogant.

"But—what does this have to do with this old man?" Xiang Yu didn't care about the other party's attitude for the time being.

The middle-aged man pointed at the old man: "He said he found a way, and that way is immortality."

"That old man is an archaeologist and historian, specializing in the Qin and Han dynasties," the middle-aged man said lazily, closing his eyes. "And during the Qin and Han dynasties, there were two famous figures who wanted to break free from the constraints of time."

"—Who?" For the first time, Xiang Yu felt that history was such an important subject. "Could it be Qin Shi Huang? Wasn't he always looking for the elixir of immortality?"

"Yes, he is one of them." The middle-aged man opened his eyes a crack, his gaze possessing a morbid clarity, so articulate that it was unlike anyone confined to a mental hospital. "The other one is Emperor Wu of Han."

A pale beam of light slanted into the ward, landing on half of the middle-aged man's face. He suddenly spoke, reciting a line of poetry in a drawn-out tone: "Liu Che's Maoling Mausoleum is full of stagnant bones, Ying Zheng's coffin is filled with abalone—"